


Your Blood In My Veins

by Welsh_Woman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Everybody Lives, F/F, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Other tags to be added, TW: cutting, Tags May Change, Vampire Lydia Martin, Vampire Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsh_Woman/pseuds/Welsh_Woman
Summary: Escaping from a pack of Hunters, Stiles and Lydia run into a different kind of Pack, finding a lot more than safety amid their numbers.





	1. Out of the Frying Pan, Into The Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Unelore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unelore/gifts).



Stiles grits his teeth against the pain throbbing in his leg, Lydia’s grasp on his shoulder the only thing keeping him in the here and now. She pushes him forward despite the fact that her own legs are weak and barely supporting her…

He doesn’t know how long they had been imprisoned, how long they had been tortured and played with, but he knows that if either of them goes down now, they aren’t getting back up.

Behind them, Stiles can make out the crowing of the Hunters as a flash of brightness skips over them before swinging back like the light on a magician at the crest of his latest trick.

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit_!

Stiles echoes Lydia’s grip, pulling her toward him as they stumble through the undergrowth, the sudden snow making their feet slip and slide as they tumble down one embarkment after the other. It’s just another sign of how weak they are that they’re even making tracks this way, and it’s only a matter of time before the Hunters-

Stiles shakes his head and cuts off that thought before it can take root. They’re going to be fine, they only have to stay ahead of them for a few more miles and then the Hunters will be forced to ask the local law enforcement to play on their land.

And that’s if these are the ones that follow the rules, the  _Code._

The fact that they were imprisoned and tortured despite  _having done nothing wrong_  doesn’t really fill Stiles with hope, though. They’ll probably just drive right past the border with nary a care in the world, finished with the little ‘hunt’ they decided on since everything else was so  _boring_ now…

Lydia slips, almost drops, and Stiles pulls himself from the morbid turn that his thoughts have taken to steady and support her. It also helps him get his head on straight; he can’t let himself fall into despair now. He needs to help her, strengthen and assist her.

His blood-sister and last bit of family he has left.

Just a few more miles, just a few more…

A sudden howl cuts through the night, making Stiles chuckle darkly at the thought that if the Hunters don’t get them, they’ll be too weak to keep from being torn apart from  _feral_   _dogs_.

“ _Stiles_!” Lydia hisses, letting him know that his thoughts have pulled him away for too long. “Stiles, listen.”

Another howl floats through the air and Stiles makes to ask what, exactly, Lydia wanted him to hear when the sudden silence answers that question for him:

The Hunters have stopped.

Laughing, moving, even the illumination that was highlighting where Stiles and Lydia were going is gone.

Like it never was to begin with.

Lydia’s hands are like talons in his arm now, her breathing harsh and sharp in his ear as one howl suddenly transforms into two, to three, to a symphony…

Only to cease, an unnatural quiet falling over the woods as the creatures that were making the howls step forward to reveal themselves.

Wolves.

Big, beautiful, majestic  _wolves_.

With a shine to their eyes that let Stiles know these aren't just simple beasts.

They slip from the trees like shadows, floating over the ground in a way that Stiles remembers and envies, even as he tries not to give any of them his back… A feat that requires quite a bit of skill as their number seems to multiply each time he turns around.

 _ **Fuck**_.

After a while, one of them apparently decides that it doesn’t want to wait for whatever signal that they’re all waiting for and darts for Lydia, teeth bared in a false mockery of a smile.

Stiles barely has time to move, but Lydia has one last bit of strength in her and claws across the wolf’s snout before it even comes close, making it hit the ground with a yelp.

The rest of the wolves make rumbling noises at this, whether they are laughing at the wolf or gearing up to follow it’s lead, Stiles doesn’t know; he’s too busy watching as Lydia looks at the blood on her fingertips consideringly, stick one in her mouth to suck the blood off before making a face and spitting it out.

Stiles is once more in awe of her, both at the insult and the power of will it took to do that. Even now, he fights the urge to lick up the traces of viscera she’s wiping off in the snow…

His attention is captured by a low rumble echoing through the clearing; this, apparently, is the signal the wolves were waiting for, as they all tense up as soon as they hear it and one last form emerged from the treeline.

It’s another wolf, of course, a midnight black that almost swallows him up in the darkness. If not for their advanced eyesight, Stiles was sure that they wouldn’t see it, and can only stare at it prowling past the other wolves like a king in a court.

A pair of glowing red eyes a moment later shows that this  _is_  these wolves’ king.

Their  _ **Alpha**_ , at least.

Stiles tries not to react when, between one step and the other, the wolf transforms into a man with ebony hair as dark as his fur and the same lean body, steam seems to rise from his form with every step he takes.

The sharp “Stiles!” that Lydia hisses in his ear tells him that he wasn’t very successful and he also mentally shakes his head sharply in an effort to get his thoughts in order. Now really  _isn’t_ the best time to be appreciative of the other man’s physique…

A man who is either uncaring or unconcerned with the cold as he comes to a stop before them and snaps, “I am Derek Hale, Alpha of these lands. Who are you and why have you brought Hunters to my door?”

Stiles swallows hard, fighting down the need to feed for a little while longer as he tries on his most winning smile.

“Actually, that’s a bit of a funny story…”


	2. Just A Taste...

Derek’s eyes narrowed at the pair in front of him, of the pain that he could practically taste in the air around them, Peter’s injury a faint undertone that he chooses to ignore for the time being.

The male’s offhand remark, complete with a smile that had barely any time to form before he was wincing in pain, had his companion shaking her head even as her body leaned closer to his. She barely flinched when Cora came up behind her on not-as-silent-as-they-could-be paws.

The man’s breath rattled in his lungs as he no doubt was going to launch into a long-winded explanation of why he and his companion were in their territory. Derek interrupted him before he could get a word out with a brisk, “Do you need medical attention?”

Brown eyes blinked slowly at him before the man oh-so-eloquently muttered, “What?”

Derek frowns, not liking the time that elapsed between him asking the question and the answer he received. Yes, he could tell that the pair were supernatural, but not everything had the healing capacity that he and his kind did, and there were ways of keeping even their kind from healing fully.

Derek was well aware of the ways to draw out pain and the love of torture certain Hunters had, even though he was wary of whether these two would spell trouble for his pack later.

“You’re barely standing, even though there has been ample time for you to heal since we drove off the Hunters chasing you. Do you need any assistance purging your systems from whatever it was that is keeping you from healing?”

In response to his question, he gets a pair of incredulous stares pointed at him and uneasy rumblings from the rest of his pack. Granted, he  _is_  offering aid to unknown entities – one of which had already attacked one of them (then again, it was  _Peter_ , so she got a bit of a pass on that) – but something in his gut told him that these two needed his protection.

Needed  ** _him_**.

“No, we don’t need anything taken out… that’s part of the funny part…”

The girl makes some sort of noise, a signal for her pair to stop stalling because the next thing Derek knows is that he’s now looking to a pair of red eyes – a slightly different shade than his own – and a pair of sharp fangs grinning at him.

“You’re vampires.”

His statement causes another rumble to travel through his pack, even as the woman glares at him and snaps, “Yes, and you’re all werewolves. Now that we’ve established our supernatural affiliations, can we get to the part where you tell us whether you’re going to rip our heads off or not?”

The male’s soft, “Lydia…” is almost lost to the answering snarls her demand stirs up, Cora being suspiciously silent behind her.

It takes Derek growling out a short, “Enough!” to get everyone to calm down.

“You have yet to tell me why you were being chased by Hunters. That will be the deciding factor on whether or not there will be any head ripping.”

There’s a snort behind him, probably from Erica, even as the male shakes his head and meets Derek’s gaze, teeth gone back to their human shape.

“It’s like you said, Alpha. We’re vampires. They didn’t need another reason.”

Derek frowns, eyes catching the way that the man in front of him seems to be swaying a little. “The Hunters in these parts have a Code-”

The female – Lydia – huffs at that, her white-knuckled grip on her companion the only thing that seems to be keeping her upright. “Yes, a Code that says to  _torture_  and  _maim_  all supernaturals, no matter if they  ** _haven’t done anything wrong._** The disgusting, worthless-”

This time, it’s Scott that cuts her off, with an angry growl and a move like he’s going to attack her before Derek stills him off with a harsh snap of his teeth. It doesn’t stop Lydia from crouching into a defensive stance, amber eyes glowing and fangs dropped as she snarls back, though.

Unfortunately, this has the side effect of her pair losing whatever it was that was keeping him upright, something that he makes known with a muttered, “Oh shit.” as he pitches forward.

“Stiles!”

Lydia makes to catch him, but her weakness makes itself known in the way that she stumbles and is too slow to halt her pair’s descent.

Derek, however, is not.

He isn’t even really thinking as he reaches out and catches Stiles – trying to ignore the part of him that is grateful the strange word that Lydia muttered when he showed up had been a name and not a curse - ending up with his arms around the man’s shoulders and Stiles’ face pressed into his neck.

There is a sudden inhalation from almost the entirety of those in the clearing and then a swift, shuddering silence.

Stiles doesn’t seem to notice how tense it has become around him, or the fact that his fingers have clawed into Derek’s back almost as soon as he caught him. All he seems to be interested in rubbing his nose along the column of the neck in front of him and whispering, “You… you smell  _really_  good…”

Derek chances a quick look at Lydia, his grip reflexively tightening when he sees the despair in her eyes and the way she looks as if she wants to rip Stiles from Derek’s grasp. It’s a little surprising to also see that she has a hand gripped in Cora’s coat, but he doubts either of them are really in a state to notice right now.

“Stiles-”

“It’s been  _ages_ , hasn’t it, Lydia?” Stiles’ words are muffled, pressed into Derek’s skin with little licks and open-mouthed kisses, something that would be much more intimate in a different situation. “They used to tease us, offering an arm or a cut palm, just to see us writhe and scream…”

“This is another trick, Stiles.” Lydia’s voice is firm, and Derek would be  _pissed_  at what she’s insinuating if he couldn’t feel the graze of fangs against his neck at the next pass that Stiles takes. “You do this, and we’re both dead.”

“But he smells  _so good_ , Lyds. Like… like…”

“ ** _Please_**.” Derek startles a little when it becomes apparent that Lydia is talking to  _him_  now. “He was captured for longer than I was, he was protecting me, he doesn’t…  _please_.”

It takes a moment to realize what she’s asking, but when he does, Derek has to fight off a shudder that he tells himself is revulsion, not anything else.

“I am not a meal to be handed out-”

“No, you don’t understand what this is  ** _at all_**!” Lydia’s gaze is  _furious_ , and it soothes something in Derek that this isn’t something to be taken lightly, or that Stiles was reacting like this just because Derek reminded him of a particularly juicy steak. “ **Think**  for a moment. Think if you had been cut off from the moon for days,  _months_ , even! Think of how you would feel to go from a darkened, bricked up dungeon room and then suddenly be thrown into a wide-open forest with a clear sky! What would  _you_  do?!?”

Derek swallows as Stiles’ actions are thrown into terrifying clarity for him, but he still pushes the man’s face away from his neck despite his protests.

That spot is too intimate, too much after a single meeting. He can’t allow that now, but he still needs to figure out who these two really are and what happened that drove them onto his land.

And if what they were saying about the Hunters was true, well…

It’s been a while since Derek himself really hunted anything.

Derek had pushed Stiles’ face away from him by pressing his hand against it, given how the other man had yet to release him, and he’s not sure which of them he surprises more when he says, “Bite me.” at the first tentative touch of Stiles’ tongue to his palm.

There is a sharp hiss somewhere as Stiles freezes, no doubt reminded of the times that he spoke of, of how this was a constant game with the Hunters that had them. Derek hopes that it is different enough that he doesn’t refuse… although, a part of him is screaming that Stiles  _should_  refuse, that what he’s doing is  _crazy_ , that they  ** _don’t even know these people_** …

Derek mentally tells that part of himself to take a hike as Stiles finally releases him, only to grab ahold of Derek’s hand like he’s afraid Derek is going to rip it away from him and bring it up to his lips.

Just before he’s about to bite down, Stiles stops himself, body starting to tremble as he mutters, “Don’t hurt her. If… if this is a trick, it’s my fault. You- you can’t hurt her…”

Lydia makes a pained noise and tries to move forward again, only to completely lose her balance and practically collapse onto Cora’s form. His sister makes a slight _woof_ of discomfort before shifting her weight so that she’s completely supporting the other girl.

Taking a quick look around the clearing, Derek can see that most of his pack is still on the defensive, but not looking like they’re about to just up and attack the two of them anymore.

Although Peter  _is_  managing to convey how he thinks that this is a stupid idea, even in wolf form.

Derek decides to just ignore him for now.

Shifting so that Stiles is practically cradled in his arms, Derek tries to ignore the conflicting feelings that this is evoking in him as he whispers, “No one is going to hurt  _either_  of you. This isn’t a trick. You’re safe, I promise.”

Stiles looks up at him at that, eyes a swirling mixture of gold and ember as he seems to search Derek’s face for something – a lie, the truth, something that could give him a clue one way or the other – and Derek tries to stay as still as he can as the minutes tick by.

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, Stiles nods once and bites down hard.


	3. A Complication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the cutting tag in the end notes!

_There is nothing but static at first, a dull buzzing that grows louder and **louder** , filling his body until he feels as if he will scream from it. Only then does it stop, instead turning into a lullaby that makes warmth flow from his head to his toes, a warmth that has more to do with the woman singing than with the lullaby itself…_

_Those feelings are overcome by soft hands and words, MommaAlphaSafetyHome holding him close, guiding him and loving him as he makes mistakes, praising him and so proud when he does something right and all he wants is to be just like her, mimics her whenever she visits other Packs and revels in her laughter when she catches him at it._

_That too is overcome by the smell of burning flesh and screams, a scalding heat that crawls up his arms and licks at his legs, pulled back by an embrace he fights as he screams and pleads and-_

_A hospital room with a steady metronome of a beeping heart monitor, a man in a bed that is the last of his family and all his fault. He weeps and begs to stay, to not abandon Peter to humans that do not understand what they are or how they work, but those same hands that pulled him away from the house now tug him away from his Uncle-_

_A dark, dank room in a city with too many sounds, too many smells, everything is just pressing in on him like his guilt isn’t enough to suffocate under. It’s all a wall of wailsperfumesexhatejealousystupidliarfuckyoutooloudtoomuch **makeitstop** -_

_BigsisterAlphatoosoonImsorry is leaving, and she’s ordering him to stay behind, doesn’t even hug him goodbye, just leaves and he’s stuck in a room for so long he thinks he will go crazy when she doesn’t answer her phone, hollow feeling in his chest feels like it’s gotten **bigger** and he’s in his car, wishing, praying, not Laura  **please** -_

_She looks almost normal, as long as he just looks at her face, as long as he thinks of this like the end of a full moon when she got so tired, she just passed out in the leaves and Mom had to carry her back home, smiling the whole time, oh, Mom, I’m sorry, I’m so **sorry** -_

_Peter is back, but he’s not Peter, he’s wrongangryhurtspoison and he follows where Peter says to go, listens when Peter says to hurt, tries so hard to be a good Beta because somehow Peter **knows** -_

_Uncle laying in the dirt, burned again, his fault again and when he drags his claws across his neck, Uncle almost looks relieved-_

_Three, just three, so alone, wants a Pack, a family and his Bitten brother **hates**  him, pushes him away, not my Alpha, **no**. Just wants someone to run with, teach about the Moon and the Pull, someone to chase away the cold-_

_Fuzzballlittlesistersodifferentbut **here** is alive and Peter has come back somehow, and the Bitten boy is slinking around, can’t let him become Omega, Omegas  **die** , and then there are Hunters on the land, a strange smell that calls to him, what is it, who are they…?_

Stiles doesn’t know when or how he moved, but the Alpha is cradled in his arms much like a child seeking comfort. It would be almost the same visage, if not for the pounding of Derek’s heart and the line of blood dripping from his wrist.

Unable to help himself, Stiles licks the line before it can hit Derek’s elbow, the soft noise that Derek makes hidden under the canopy of growls his Pack releases at the action.

It takes a few moments before Derek can move away, his wound healing sluggishly as he staggers to his feet. Stiles keeps his arms out, ready to catch him if he falls, but does not move any closer to the Alpha. He has a feeling that he might be on the business end of a bunch of angry wolves if he tries.

“Does-” Derek’s voice comes out in a rasp that makes Stiles wonder what else the man would give him if asked. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance to think upon it for too long before Derek clears his throat and tries again.

“Does she need blood as well?”

It takes Stiles a second, always a little off kilter after he feeds. When he realizes what Derek is offering, Stiles smoothly raises from his sitting position to block Derek’s gaze on his blood-sister.

“That will not be necessary. She can feed from me.”

Derek’s brow furrows, even as he takes a step forward. “I can-”

“ ** _No_**.”

The single word reverberates around the clearing with the force of an Alpha order, but all it does is make Derek’s brow furrow even further and Lydia sigh from behind him. He knows that he’s being unreasonable, but the thought of anyone else feeding off of Derek, even his own blood-sister, makes him want to rend and  _tear._

“I would be more than willing to let the young miss feed from me.”

Stiles had sensed the other man shifting from wolf to human, so he does not startle at the new voice. Lydia makes a noise in the back of her throat that says she isn’t impressed by the tall man preening in front of her, her fangs lengthening in a smile that is more the baring of her teeth.

“I’ve already tasted that toxic mess you call your blood. I’m more of a mind to just rip your head off than drink from you.”

Peter grins at that, body shifting as if to pounce, but before Stiles can move in front of Lydia, Derek is snarling at his Uncle and the man subsides with a petulant grumble. Giving both Stiles and Lydia his back, something that makes one of his wolves whine in distress, Derek takes that moment to address the lot of them.

“Boyd, Isaac, make sure those Hunters are out of our territory and see if you can find out why they were here. Scott, Erica, make sure we missed nothing chasing them out and if we need to renew the wards around the perimeter. Peter, go back to the Pack House and make sure that the guest rooms are ready for our new occupants.”

There are a few grumbles from the wolves, but no one slips back into their human skins to argue, and a few growls from Derek have them moving to complete their assignments.

Stiles doesn’t even realize that there is still a wolf with them until Cora woofs lowly from where she’s laying near Lydia’s feet.

Humming lowly (and trying not panic about the fact he’s learned more from feeding off of Derek than he has on anyone else, that he knows not only Cora and Peter’s names, but their entire complicated relationship with Derek), Stiles moves to Lydia’s side, drawing his pinky nail across his wrist before offering it to her.

Lydia makes a hum of her own before bringing Stiles’ offering to her lips, a slight rush of air letting him know that Cora has shifted to her human skin.

“You wolves really don’t have a problem with nudity, do you?”

His quip makes Derek snort and Cora huff out a breath, both Hale’s eyes on were Lydia is feeding from him, expressions too blank for Stiles to get a read on their moods. Their heartbeats are too even, and scents hidden to gather any clues that way, either.

It makes the hair on the back of Stiles’ neck rise, a familiar uneasy feeling settling in his stomach as Lydia finally pulls away.

“Thank you for your help, but I believe it might be better if my sister and I just left now.”

That gets him a pair of furrowed brows, and another huff of breath from Cora before she flatly states, “You may have fed, Vampire, but you’re far from fully healed. You’ll stay with us until you’ve regained your health at least.”

“A few deer would work just as well-”

“Stiles.”

Sighing heavily, Stiles withdraws his arm from his blood-sister and glances at her for only a moment. She wasn’t lying when she said that Stiles had been in the Hunter’s ‘care’ longer than she had; where she had only a few weeks, Stiles had been there for  _months_  and he was still feeling the effects of that entrapment. Perhaps he should follow Lydia’s lead for now, despite his misgivings about how much he drew from Derek in a single feeding.

Nodding once, Stiles pulls his sister to her feet and lets his eyes traveling over their companions before stating, “Are you going to be our guides, then? Or just making sure we don’t wander off on the way to your lovely home?”

“Who says that it has to be just one of those things?” Cora grins at him, a baring of teeth much like his had been when he showed the ‘wolves just what it was they found, a wink thrown in when she meets Lydia’s gaze.

Stiles decides that he likes her.

“How about the vampires that have already been captured and held against their will?” Lydia quips but allows herself to be led, eyeing Cora over with interest herself. Stiles smoothers a giggle at how Derek frowns at that, knowing now that it is more to do with Cora being his baby sister than anything else.

Well,  _mostly_  anything else… They are still strangers here, no matter how much Stiles gleaned from feeding from Derek.

Speaking of the man, he has yet to shift back to his wolf form and is looking at Stiles like he isn’t sure quite what to do with him. It’s fitting, since Stiles isn’t sure what to do with himself either, something that hasn’t happened since he was  _still human_.

He blames the Hunters, blames how much he fed from the man – he’s _never_ taken that much, was always so careful, knows that it is only the ‘wolf metabolism that is keeping Derek upright despite the shaking of his knees that Stiles can see oh-so-clearly – but thankfully Lydia keeps her head while he’s losing his and asks questions as they walk.

Stiles just watches Derek as he fights with himself on whether they should stay, or just run as far away as he can from the man that has him clenching his jaw to keep his fangs from dropping at the thought of feeding from him again…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cutting in this chapter is Stiles slicing along his wrist so that Lydia can feed from him. It does not go into much detail, but I figured I would add a warning, anyway.
> 
> You can skip it by not reading the paragraph that starts with _"Humming lowly..."_ and not miss anything important.
> 
> Safe reading lovelies!


End file.
